


The Things That Sustain Them

by danahid



Series: The Things You See [2]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-10
Updated: 2013-12-10
Packaged: 2018-01-04 06:38:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1077780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/danahid/pseuds/danahid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pavel distributes some holiday cheer:<br/><i>“Yes, it is,” Commander Spock said, looking up at Pavel.  Pavel wasn’t sure how the commander knew what he was thinking, but he was sure Mr Spock did, and the look in his eyes was gentle and human and said clearly in a language more precise than words that he had long since forgiven him.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	The Things That Sustain Them

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on [Livejournal](http://danahid.livejournal.com/11516.html), December 13 2009, as a pinch-hit for Round 2 of Trek Exchange. The requestor asked for a "happy gen fic," with "any combination of Chekov, Sulu, Scotty, and Uhura." This story is part of a series. The epilogue to this story is posted on AO3: [You Are Whatever a Moon Has Always Meant](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1075592).

 

 

Pavel offered to help with it their first year. The Communications department was in disarray, working all shifts to eradicate a virus in their systems, and a harried Lieutenant Uhura smiled at him gratefully as she handed over the packages.

The next year he volunteered again, and Lieutenant Uhura nodded, her eyes warm and kind. Pavel blushed furiously as he clutched the packages to his chest.

This year, their third year, Lieutenant Uhura did not assign the task within her department, and Pavel did not think to ask. When the transporter room notified the bridge that the annual shipment of packages had arrived, Pavel was out of his chair and on to the lift before the announcement ended. The turbolift doors closed before he could see the amused looks and outright smiles being exchanged by the bridge crew. Even Mr Spock’s eyebrow seemed amused.

*

Pavel gave Lieutenant Uhura her package first. It was a small package, wrapped in plain brown paper. Inside was a velvet box, and inside the velvet box were two crystal drops attached to thin gold wires. The crystals shone and sparkled, dazzling Pavel so that it took him a whole minute to realize they were jewelry, earrings to replace the lieutenant’s favorite earrings that had been damaged on a recent mission.

Pavel started to move away, towards the next person, when he saw it: real, old-fashioned pulp paper folded into a precise square at the bottom of the velvet box. Pavel paused, tilted his head, and watched as Lieutenant Uhura pried it out. She unfolded the paper as if it were as delicate and fragile as the earrings. She read what was written on it with the same care, her head bent gracefully over the paper, her hair a curtain of black that hid her expression. Pavel watched as she removed something that had been enclosed with the letter and set it aside, and he continued to watch after she finished reading and re-folded the letter, smoothing her fingers lovingly over the creases.

“Pavel,” she said softly, when she realized he was watching. “Would you like to see? My sister sent a picture of her new baby.”

Pavel held the holophoto carefully by its corners, so he wouldn’t damage it. It was a picture of a group of women, posed in front of a small tan-colored building. In the center of the group was a woman who looked remarkably like Lieutenant Uhura, slim and strong with brilliant dark eyes, holding a small baby in her arms.

“Your niece … your whole family is very beautiful,” Pavel murmured as he handed back the holophoto.

“They are,” she agreed. She sounded a little sad, as if she missed them very much, but then she smiled, and her smile made Pavel blush all over again.

*

Pavel gave Hikaru his package next. Hikaru tore off the brightly patterned paper to reveal a small jar of viscous material. Pavel frowned in confusion.

“It’s for polishing my sword,” Hikaru explained when he saw Pavel’s expression.

Captain Kirk spit his coffee across the bridge.

“For polishing my _katana_ , sir,” Hikaru said, rolling his eyes at the captain. He pointedly ignored the captain’s snort, and held out the jar to Pavel. Pavel took it carefully in his hands, turning it over and over again, admiring the way the jar’s contents seemed to glimmer in the bright bridge lights.

“My grandfather special orders it from this shop in the Castro,” Hikaru said.

The captain laughed so hard that he choked, and the doctor hammered on his back, swearing, “Dammit, Jim, only you!” Lieutenant Uhura closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose, Mr Spock’s eyebrow completely disappeared into his hairline, Hikaru looked like he wanted to smash his forehead into the helm console, and Pavel thought they were all very strange.

“So, Pav,” Hikaru said when the captain had finally stopped laughing, “what’d you get?”

Pavel reached under his console to pull out the box his parents had sent. He was almost embarrassed to share his gift (no matter that he was the Weapons and Tactical Officer on the flagship, his family still thought he was still a little boy — it was very frustrating), but Hikaru was his friend and friends shared (Pavel had learned this at very young age in Russia; good little Russians always shared). Silently Pavel showed Hikaru the textbook datapads his father had sent, the woolen hat and mittens his mother had knitted, the cookies his babushka had baked.

Hikaru grabbed the mittens and hat first. “But this is great, Pav! We can use these when we go hiking in Tahoe next shore leave.” He picked up the datapads next. “And these textbooks look pretty cool too. Can I borrow this one?”

Pavel felt immeasurably better about his gifts. He grinned and told Hikaru that of course he could borrow the book, and then offered everyone on the bridge some of his babushka’s famous cookies.

*

Pavel decided to deliver the doctor’s package next, since the doctor was on the bridge for this part of his shift, but the package included a note that said it should be given to the captain, which confused Pavel (even though it didn’t seem to confuse the captain).

Captain Kirk held out his hand for the package, as if he had been expecting the unusual instructions. He slit open the package and stepped across the bridge to hand its contents to Lieutenant Uhura. He bent to whisper something in her ear. She listened then laughed softly and nodded. Pavel watched with deepening confusion as her fingers flew across the communications console.

The doctor was arguing with Commander Spock about the importance of gut intuition to medical diagnosis and was completely absorbed in their discussion (which, Pavel thought worriedly, was rapidly exiting the realm of philosophy and well on its way towards an all-out brawl, as much as Mr Spock ever engaged in a brawl with someone other than the captain), when a child’s voice filled the bridge.

_“You better watch out_  
 _You better not cry_  
 _Better not pout_  
 _I’m telling you why_  
 _Santa Claus is coming to town…”_

“JoJo?” the doctor whispered. He forgot the commander entirely and drifted towards the viewscreen, joy spreading across his face.

The captain beamed at Lieutenant Uhura, and then at Pavel and everyone else on the bridge, while Joanna McCoy sang on, her little girl’s voice high and lilting:

_“He sees you when you’re sleeping_  
 _He knows when you’re awake_  
 _He knows if you’ve been bad or good_  
 _So be good for goodness sake!”_

The song ended there. Dr McCoy’s daughter took a breath and nodded, and her pigtails bobbed, and then she said in a rush: “So I wanted to sing that for you, Daddy. And I know, Daddy, Mommy said that you couldn’t come home for Christmas this year, but that’s okay. I totally know that you can’t come home every year. And I really liked the present you sent. I always wanted my own stethoscope, just like yours. I don’t think I can use it in school though, but that doesn’t matter. I’m doing real good in school, Mommy said I should tell you. Um, I’m not sure if this vid is getting too long, it might be because I sang that song, but I really wanted to sing to you the way we used to when we were able to spend Christmas together. Anyway, I should probably say bye, Daddy, before Mommy freaks out that I’m wasting so many minutes.” She glanced briefly off-screen then turned back and leaned close enough to the vid camera to blow her father a kiss. “See you in April, Daddy. I love you!”

The doctor had stopped right in front of the viewscreen and was standing close enough to reach up and touch his daughter’s face. Pavel thought that he looked terribly alone, silhouetted against the blank screen, after the vid ended.

But then Pavel realized that Doctor McCoy wasn’t alone. The captain was standing a step behind the doctor. As soon as the vid ended, the captain placed a hand on the doctor’s shoulder and squeezed gently. Doctor McCoy stared up at the blank screen for a minute longer then turned to the captain. “Think I can get a private channel to Georgia, Jim?”

The captain glanced back at Lieutenant Uhura, who nodded immediately.

“It’s waiting for you in your office, Bones,” the captain said softly.

After the doctor left the bridge, Captain Kirk bounced up to the command chair. He sprawled in his chair as usual, then laughed suddenly. “Well, let me just go on the record here, saying that that’s a pretty creepy song. Santa as stalker.” He shook his head. “Never occurred to me before. ‘Watching you while you’re sleeping and when you’re awake.’ Jeez.” He laughed again, and Pavel wasn’t surprised when matching laughter rippled across the bridge in response to his perfectly weird observation. He had that effect on his crew sometimes.

*

There were only two gifts left to distribute. Pavel gave the cylindrically shaped package to Commander Spock.

The first officer inclined his head in gratitude and opened the silver tube. It appeared to be empty. Mr Spock frowned minutely and shook the tube. A textile roll dropped into his hands. He unrolled it to reveal an intricate tapestry, woven predominantly of red and purple threads, shot through with silver and gold. After a minute, Pavel realized that the metallic threads were actually Vulcan words embroidered across the tapestry.

“What is it, Spock?” asked Lieutenant Uhura as she stood up to see. When the commander didn’t answer, she stepped closer and touched his arm. “Spock?”

The commander tore his eyes away from the tapestry to read the note pinned to the fabric. “My father found this among my mother’s belongings on Terra. She worked the threads herself. He thought I would welcome this memory of my mother.”

“It’s beautiful, Spock,” said Lieutenant Uhura, tracing the silver threads with a reverent finger.

Pavel knew the captain was insatiably curious, so he wasn’t surprised when the captain joined the commander and the lieutenant by the science console. Pavel watched as the captain tilted his head, his too-sharp eyes tracing the embroidery even if his fingers held back.

“Huh,” Captain Kirk said after a minute. “Not your typical Vulcan sentiment, is it.”

“My mother was not Vulcan,” Mr Spock said stiffly. Then he blinked and stared at the captain. “I did not know you read Vulcan, Captain.”

Captain Kirk shrugged and sauntered back to his chair. Pavel could tell that he was pleased with himself. He always liked to surprise his crew. Sometimes Pavel wondered (and worried) about how many more surprises he had in store for them.

Commander Spock looked thoughtfully after the captain, as if he were a particularly difficult puzzle he was trying to solve. Captain Kirk didn’t notice the commander’s focused attention; he had gone back to teasing Hikaru about his sword polisher. Lieutenant Uhura began to move back towards her communications console.

Pavel touched her arm as she passed him. “What does it say?” he whispered, gesturing to the commander’s tapestry.

 _“Many waters cannot quench love, neither can floods drown it,”_ she recited softly from memory. “It’s from an ancient Earth text called the Song of Solomon, also known as the Song of Songs.”

“It is very beautiful,” Pavel said. He stared at the tapestry, turning the words over in his mind. He was reminded painfully of the look in Mr Spock’s eyes when he materialized on the transporter pad and his mother did not. Pavel felt his heart clench and tried to tell himself once more that it wasn’t his fault. “It is very beautiful,” he said again.

“Yes, it is,” Commander Spock said, looking up at Pavel. Pavel wasn’t sure how the commander knew what he was thinking, but he was sure Mr Spock did, and the look in his eyes was gentle and human and said clearly in a language more precise than words that he had long since forgiven him.

*

Pavel gave the captain his package last. He was always surprised by how intensely private the captain was. Captain Kirk worked hard to appear an open book to his crew, uncomplicated and approachable and extroverted, but Pavel thought none of these things were actually true. Pavel knew that the captain prided himself on his unpredictability, and he thought that it applied to his character as well. Pavel couldn’t predict how the captain would react to whatever was in his package.

The captain’s package was a small envelope (Pavel was amazed by the amount of pulp paper that had been in this year’s shipment of packages). Inside the captain’s envelope was a single holophoto. The captain stared at the holophoto for a few minutes, then flipped it over and read what was written on the back. Then he got up and left the bridge without handing over the conn.

Pavel’s mouth dropped open. He was shocked by the captain’s breach of protocol.

Pavel was so shocked that he hardly realized what he was doing when he picked up the holophoto the captain had left on his chair. It was a picture of two small boys, with matching smiles, sunburned skin, and sun-bleached blond hair. They were standing in the middle of a dusty brown yard, surrounded by an endless blue sky. Pavel turned the picture over to read the words scrawled on the back: _Found this in Mom’s stuff. Miss you, little brother. Sam._

Lieutenant Uhura appeared at Pavel’s side. She didn’t scold him for taking liberties with the captain’s private business. Instead she brushed her fingers against the back of his hand. “He’ll want it later,” she said, her voice low and musical as always. “Put it somewhere safe for now.”

“Will he?” Pavel asked, surprised to hear the desperate edge in his own voice.

“Of course he will,” she said gently. “We all do. We all need these things that remind us of home. They’re what keep us sane, what keep us going.” She smiled, and Pavel could feel his cheeks reddening. “The memories of those we love, of who we are and where we come from, the hopes we carry with us. These are the things that sustain us.” She kissed his cheek. “Thank you for distributing the gifts, Pavel. You did a good job.”

Then she smiled her glorious smile and returned to her station, and Pavel ducked his head and blushed.

**END**

 

**Author's Note:**

> This story and its title were (sort of) inspired by Tim O'Brien's classic story, "The Things They Carried," especially this passage: _They carried all the emotional baggage of men who might die. Grief, terror, love, longing — these were intangibles, but the intangibles had their own mass and specific gravity, they had tangible weight._


End file.
